The low rumble of the motorcycle echoed down the street as he walked it into the space. The engine died when his grip loosened, hanging his head and taking a moment for himself finally. The city he loved was hurt, buildings destroyed and streets wrecked, but it would rebuild. They said it had done so before, 11 years prior, and he could only be thankful that he wasn't awake for that nightmare. But the world had changed irreversibly again, and now it needed someone to defend it. The world, the universe, had now shown itself as a pretty small place, a place where a guy like him seemed to take up just a little too much space.

Fury had said that there was still a place for him when he woke up in that fake room nearly a year ago, but until maybe a handful of days prior, it didn't really seem like it. It had felt good, having a purpose again, finding a group of people he could rely on, even if they had their difficulties at first. They had worked together, as a team, and shown everyone that Earth wasn't someplace to mess with.

And, if he was honest with himself, that's what had been making the months so long since he woke up. He was alone. Everyone he knew was either gone or missing in action, a whole time that was now left to live in the pages of textbooks, taught in a US History course. How do you relate to someone who is quite literally out of time? The body was young, he had made it a point to keep himself in his prime, but the soul was old, beaten and alone.

Still, there was a small spark that lived. Not in his brain, or chest, but somewhere indefinable, in his core, deep inside of him that refused to be smothered by work and duty. Something he hadn't felt for sure in the longest time. And he had met her after getting back from the boxing gym that very same day Fury had called upon him once again…

"Hold the elevator!" she shouted across the lobby of the apartment building. The sound of her voice was the first thing to really pull Steve out from his head, pulled him away from the mission Nick Fury just assigned. Instinctively, he put out his hand to stop the doors from closing just as the woman reached him. Running in heeled boots, probably not the most practical thing to do, and while carrying some bags of groceries, none the less.

"Please, let me help you with those," Steve offered as she entered the elevator and the doors closed, "Which floor?"

The woman looked at him for a moment over the edge of the bag. He had caught a glimpse of her before, her piercing blue eyes catching him off guard. Her dark brown hair was tied back into a long, high ponytail but wisps of it were starting to come loose around her face, accentuating her flushed cheeks and pink lips. Her eyes flicked quickly to his arms, knowing in her gut that he could probably carry all her groceries plus his gym bag and still have a free arm. His offer caught her a little off guard but he was known around the complex for being exceptionally polite and even a little old fashioned. Right now, she could use a little old fashioned.

"Four, please, and thank you," she spoke, handing him only one of her bags, not wanting to impose too much, and Steve pushed the button for the correct floor, "I'm Elle, by the way. I've seen you around the building a few times…"

"Steve Rogers, ma'am," and he offered his hand, which she took and shook promptly, much more gently than she expected.

"Miss, please, and Elle is perfectly fine," she corrected him with a smile, and that was when the spark ignited inside. It had been about 70 years since that feeling had lived within him. Sure, the world had changed, and just maybe some things had changed for the better.

The bell for the fourth floor dinged and the doors opened, Elle taking a few steps out onto the landing before fishing her keys from her handbag and opening the door to her apartment, "Would you like to come in? The least I can do is make you something to eat with all those groceries you helped me with." Elle wanted him to stay. Normally, being trapped in a small elevator with a guy who had just come from the gym would have assaulted her nostrils, but he smelled musky, sultry. Her eyes met his and she couldn't help but bite on her bottom lip a little, a move that made his breath hitch in his chest.

"Tempting, very tempting, but I need to get cleaned up. I have someplace I need to be and I think I'm running late," Steve lamented, pulling a hand through his sweaty hair.

The balloon that had been inflating inside of her quickly deflated as he handed her groceries back, "Oh, I'm sorry, I won't keep you from your date but…"

"It's not a date," Steve quickly interrupted, a little panicked by her assumption.

The smile returned to her lips, a genuine one again, and she looked away, nodding, "Well, sometime soon then," and she offered her hand again, which he took with a sly smile of his own.

"I'll be sure to find you when I get back, Elle," and he turned to take the stairs up to his own apartment. He was something of a curious person, opting to work out in Chuck Taylors and a white t-shirt, something someone from another age would wear, and Elle couldn't help but notice his insistence to be in peak physical form. Seriously, he looked like he could carry her and not even break a sweat. She let her eyes linger on his back before finally sighing and closing the door to the apartment behind her.

The Avengers Initiative had pulled Steve away, but in the quiet moments between alien invasions and squabbling with Tony, his mind always seemed to wander back to her. He hoped she was okay, especially today. He didn't know anything about her, where she worked or even how old she was, not that it really mattered (being that he was technically 94). With a heavy sigh, he got off of his bike, managing to catch a glimpse of someone coughing at the end of the street. The person looked hurt, or at least like they were having a hard time walking. Steve watched for a moment as the person… became a woman… became Elle.

"Elle!" he shouted and took off running like a bullet towards her, getting to her faster than any normal man should and taking her completely by surprise.

"Steve?" she questioned, but then he was right in front of her before she could even really process that he was back. Truth be told, right now she couldn't really process anything. The police had told them that the fight was over, we had won, and that they were safe again. What a load of shit that was. They wouldn't really ever be safe again, but right now, with Steve Rogers standing in front of her, Elle knew that he wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"You're hurt," and the guilt settled squarely inside of him. She was wearing what he thought would be a very nice dress, a rich blue that brought out her eyes, tight enough to fit all her curves, with a wide neckline that managed to show off just the appropriate amount of cleavage for work and a hemline just above her knees, all fitted together with a silver zipper that ran the full front of the dress. Too bad there was brick and concrete dust all over it and her hands, and she was barefoot, holding onto her high heels. Her shins had a few small cuts and bruises on her ankles, but her feet looked bloody. He could see the pain and fear mixed in her eyes, but they softened just a little bit when they met his own.

"They told us all to evacuate but by the time they mentioned to stay off the streets, buildings already started getting destroyed. I managed to get down to the subway and waited there until the all-clear, but then the first train I could get only took me to the edge of the city. I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge…" and he didn't want to hear anymore. With too much ease, Steve swept her up into his arms and she wrapped her arms around his neck, finally letting herself realize how much pain she was really in. Burying her head into his shoulder, she didn't want to think about what she just went through, or how he had disappeared, or anything. Elle breathed him in, his leather jacket blending so well with the musky smell she remembered him having.

Steve carried her into the complex and up to her apartment, not letting her down until he gently settled her onto her couch. Her apartment was laid out exactly like his own, which made things easier to maneuver. To the left of the living room was the kitchen, small but open, a small breakfast bar separating the two. To the right were two doors, the door to the bathroom, and a set of wooden French double doors that were currently open, giving a nice view of the bedroom. She had been living in hers for a few years, he could tell.

"Do you have any supplies, first aid? Washcloths?" Steve asked as he stripped off his jacket, revealing a quaint blue plaid button-up, and his shoes, not wanting to mess up her rug. He started to roll up the sleeves to his elbows, feeling like he needed to make himself useful.

"Band-aids and ointment are in the mirror cabinet above the sink, and washcloths are in the linen closet in the bathroom," Elle directed, trying her best to keep her bloody feet off of anything that could stain. So much for these stockings; if the blood hadn't ruined them, all the runs and holes had. Steve immediately sprang into action, gathering the necessary supplies and filling a small bowl with water, bringing everything over to the couch and setting it all on her coffee table.

"Here, put your feet on my lap," he insisted.

"No, Steve, it's okay. I don't want to get blood all over your khakis…"

"Don't worry about it, they can be washed," and he gently took her ankles and set her feet across his thighs. For as upset as she wanted to be about it all, Elle found that she just wanted to do as she was told, wanted to let him take care of her.

"Then I insist that you let me wash them after," she said, wanting so badly to make a dirty joke about getting him out of his pants that he probably would not understand. Steve smirked a little but didn't argue with her, knowing that it's best to not upset a woman if you didn't have to. Taking the washcloth, he wet the corner of it in the bowl of water and dabbed at one of her wounds on her shin, thankfully finding that they were more scratches than actual cuts, but it wasn't easy for him to tell. The corners of her mouth turned down a bit, thinking modesty was just getting in the way at a time like this. "Hold on, let me take these off," Elle interjected.

Steve knew it was inappropriate to watch a lady undress in any sort of way, but then again, this wasn't 1945 anymore. Elle hitched her tight pencil skirt even higher up her thigh, just enough to reveal the straps of her black garter belt that were holding up her thigh high stockings. With deft fingers, she unclipped the straps from the top hem, both front and back. Those same fingers slid down her creamy white thighs as far as she could reach, leaning forward so much that a less chivalrous man would have a full view of her cleavage. Her eyes flicked up, watching his reaction move across his face. The way his lips parted slightly the higher her skirt went, his heavy swallow when she leaned forward, how he let his hand drag across the skin of her leg as he helped take them all the way off, Elle found that Steve wasn't as old fashioned as she had once thought. It was probably wildly inappropriate of her, especially under the circumstances, but now that she was finally safe at home, and with with the man that she had a crush on since he held the elevator for her, a different need started to take root inside of her.

"You don't see those around much anymore..." Steve started, trying to be casual as his heart quickened in his broad chest, "I mean, not that I've seen a lot of them anyway," and he thought it best if he just stopped trying to talk. He knew he was out of practice, not that he was ever very good at holding a conversation with a woman. But, after the events of the past few days, maybe it was time that he started to warm up to the idea of living a modern life. There definitely wasn't anything wrong with a little flirting, even if he was terrible at it.

"Well, sometimes it's just nice to know that I'm wearing pretty things under a dress like this," Elle responded gently, mercifully letting his awkwardness pass. Her answer only set his brain into overdrive, thinking of what else could be underneath a dress like that, and suddenly the apartment felt warmer than it had a second ago, "It's like a sexy secret. It's not for anyone but myself to know... and whoever I would want to know."

"Oh, yeah? That's one lucky person," Steve tried again, feeling a bit better about his flirting skills, wanting to feed the spark any way he could.

"Not yet, but if he keeps going, he just might be," Elle responded and his breath hitched in his chest, sending the spark that lived in his core into a small blaze. He wasn't used to such boldness in a girl, but Steve found that he liked it a lot. Elle was intriguing to him, someone fun, a welcome distraction for once in his long life. His eyes flicked down to her full lips only for a moment, his mind finally starting to relax to the idea that this was possibly happening.

Deftly, his fingers worked on her ankles, cleaning her wounds and bandaging what needed attention until he got to her feet. The bottoms were scraped red raw from walking on the asphalt, and both had deep scratches on the top. It had to have been excruciating for her to walk the distance, and even as Steve cleaned them as gently as he possibly could, the way she tensed up all over and her tiny winces gave away how much pain she was in.

"Everyone packed onto the Subway trains and didn't really care where, or who, they were standing on…" she explained as one of the wounds started to freshly bleed, a few drops falling onto his khakis, just as she feared, "Shit, I'm sorry…" and she started to try to move the source of the blood away as to not cause any more damage.

"Elle, please…" Steve softly pleaded with her, placing a hand on her calf, firmly holding her right there in a way that made a bolt of electricity run through her, "I'll let you wash my pants, but only if you let me finish."

"Not too quickly, I hope," she whispered under her breath, not even sure that he heard it until a knowing smirk spread across his lips.

"I'll take my time, don't worry. I'll make sure you're taken care of," he responded back, and the way she bit her bottom lip while a light blush spread up from her chest to her cheeks told him that he did good. Maybe he wasn't hopeless after all, or maybe she was just being incredibly kind, but something inside of him felt that she was genuinely flirting back. Being that that had happened, well, pretty much never in his life, it felt pretty damn good knowing that a girl who was as sexy as Elle wanted him. With light pressure, he stopped the bleeding and cleaned around the scratch, finishing with her right foot by wrapping the whole thing in a gauze bandage.

"It's been a long time since anyone has taken care of me…" Elle started, excited that he finally seemed to gain his confidence around her. She had to admit, his naïveté had a charm about it, but hearing him flirt back started the longing at her core and she wanted more.

Steve was 94, but he wasn't dead, and thankfully he still remembered when women were dropping hints. He wanted her, pretty badly, and she seemed to want... something… from him too, although exactly how far she would let him go wasn't something that he had figured out just yet. Modern women were certainly more forward than the women of his time, but that also seemed to make things more confusing for Steve. Girls of the '30s and '40s, he knew where he stood with them (usually up to their chins.) But he knew about taking them on dates, asking them to movies, even stealing a kiss after dinner would make them giggle and blush. Not anymore, it seemed. Remembering how she reacted during their last meeting, when he had to reject her offer, to today's women, taking it slow meant he wasn't interested at all, and that was the last thing he wanted Elle to think. Oh no, he wanted her, and badly, and he wanted to see exactly what she wanted from him.

Her left foot didn't seem as torn up as her right one was, but he still paid it the same attention and care, as he promised he would, "I hope you find my services up to your standards," he asserted, his voice feeling low and rumbly in his own chest as he wrapped the foot to match her other one.

Elle smiled warmly, grateful he found her when he did, "Thank you, Steve," and she lowered her head to catch his eye, wanting to make sure he felt the gravity of her words, "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't found me when you did." He had a way of making her feel safe, even when the world outside was the opposite of safe. Elle knew he was involved, knew that he had been a part of even worse horrors than she had, but that didn't seem to matter to him, not when she needed him. Still, Elle didn't dare to let the thought cross her mind that maybe, just maybe, Steve Rogers actually wanted something from her. He had finished tending to her wounds but she really didn't want him to go just yet, "Please, let me make you dinner to say thanks. I'll just change out of this dress really quick."

Steve had just eaten, but he didn't exactly want to get going either, his desire to see how this situation would unfold keeping him very firmly in her presence. Elle was going to insist anyway, reluctantly ever taking no for an answer it seemed. But as soon as she stood up, he knew she was in pain. She hid it as best she could, standing and taking some steps towards her bedroom. Still, Steve stood from the couch and gently turned her around, back towards him, needing her to know that she didn't owe him anything if it was all going to be too much. Her sharp gasp caught him off guard and he took his hands off of her. He wasn't sure what he had hurt this time, but she stayed where she was in front of him.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…" and his voice got lost in his throat. He stood nearly a head over her, a detail that became much more noticeable to him now that they were finally face to face. Her breath was shallow, tickling his neck a bit as she looked up at him, unsure of what to do next. Elle wasn't exactly one to play coy with men, and normally she would have taken what she wanted by now. But, with Steve it was different. With Steve, she thought it best if he led the dance. Elle couldn't help but notice the small trail of goosebumps she left in the wake of her fingers as she reached out to steady herself on his forearms and the innocent contact seemed to suck out all the air that hung between them.

"Maybe I should check, make sure there aren't any other cuts or scratches…" he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper, and the tips of his fingers danced lightly with the zipper of her dress. Her small nod and the way her blush spread across her décolletage was all the permission he needed.

Locking eyes, her blue piercing right through him, the zipper started to make it's way down, opening up the secrets that lay just beneath the tight fabric. Elle unconsciously held her breath, the simple act of revealing skin making the longing at her core almost as painful as her injuries. The soft fabric gave way to a black balconette bra that had silver threads throughout it, to highlight the design of the lace. Her skin was creamy white and Steve couldn't help but notice how her torso seemed to tremble as the zipper went lower, revealing the simple black lace panties she was wearing.

The zippered edges of the dress balled in his fists as he held the dress open, taking in the sight. It had been… far, far too long since he has seen flesh this sweet, so perfect and porcelain. His fingers itched to run along the edge of the lace of her bra, to feel its contents soft weight in his hands. Her scent was just as intoxicating, deep muskiness of patchouli with accents of vanilla and orange. She waited with bated breath for something, some sort of reaction from him, but his eyes couldn't stop drinking her in and he swallowed hard, suppressing the groan in his throat from his growing hardness.

Elle's fingers dug into his forearms deeper, trying her hardest to keep her balance so that he could have all the time he wanted, and the small bit of pain pulled him out as his eyes met her own once again. His were darker now, a seriousness mixed with lust behind them that seemed to heighten every nerve on her body, crying out to be touched by him. A small, frustrated whimper came from deep within her, both needy and in pain, and at once Steve knew what he needed to do.

"I know what we could do to keep you off your feet."

It was like a bolt of electricity went right through to her core with his words, his deep voice rumbling in her chest, and she knew that her panties were officially ruined by him. His statement was enough to push her over the edge of no return and she moved her fingers to the back of his neck, crashing his lips down to meet her own.

And suddenly, the world went silent, all the noise being sucked from Steve's brain and making him go dizzy. The only thing that mattered was his lips on her's, how soft they were, how they tasted faintly of coconut, how he possibly might die if she were to stop. Steve had endured so much pain in his life, so much hope only to be ultimately disappointed, but her kiss was able to wipe it all away, leaving only the most addictive experience: lust. His hands gripped her dress even tighter, pulling her torso to his own and it felt like there were far too many layers of clothing between their skin. Her fingers played with the short hairs at the back of his neck and she let out a soft, pleasing moan, breaking through the buzzing in his brain. Fuck, he needed her.

In one smooth movement, he hitched his left forearm under her ass, pulling her up and off her feet with ease. Elle let out a small sound of surprise, breaking the kiss and thankfully allowing them each a few seconds to breathe, their foreheads pressed together. If she didn't open her eyes, then she wouldn't wake up from this. If she didn't open her eyes, she could live in this moment forever, her chest pressed up against his own hard body, his warm breath mixing with her own, his arm so firmly holding her entire weight without even a sign of strain.

"Elle?" his voice came softly, just above a whisper, and she knew that her imagination, while pretty experienced at creating these scenarios, would never be able to recreate the velvet of his voice so well. Slowly, she opened her eyes to be met with his own, barely centimeters apart, yet she refused to pull away if he wouldn't, "Elle, is this what you want?"

"Yes, oh dear God yes," she matched his tone, hitching a leg on either side of his hips to settle into his grip. A smile crawled across Steve's lips before he kissed her again, slowly this time, letting himself experience each sensation she brought forth within him. His tongue swiped lightly across her bottom lip, confirming the coconut of her lip balm before she let him in, deepening the kiss but not speeding it up. He wanted everything to last. He wanted to feel her against him, to feel something new again.

The fingers on his right hand danced along her collarbone up to her shoulder, slipping under the soft blue fabric and dragging the sleeve of her dress down her arm. Elle submitted, wanting so desperately for him to bring her to the bed, to fuck her into the mattress, but she vowed to herself to let him set the pace, and she was going to stick to that. How long had it been for him? Were things so different back then? Was she setting herself up for disappointment? Right now, all she wanted was for her brain to shut off for a while and to let her enjoy herself, and when he aggressively ripped the rest of the dress off of her and let it fall to the floor, she knew she was going to be taken care of.

Her legs held onto him even tighter and her hips instinctively moved against him, trying to give the tension at her core some release. Steve chuckled a little into the kiss, her neediness for him being both cute and a huge turn on. He complied to her, his grip on her tightening and she sighed, the rough lace pressing hard on her clit. Her hand moved from his neck, pulling up the back of his shirt, sick of feeling the rough fabric and needing his skin on her own, no matter how small. Taking a few steps forward, he placed her squarely in the middle of the bed, not even daring to break the kiss for more than a few breaths at a time. He had wanted her ever since he had laid eyes on her, his brain playing out scenarios like this over and over during the quiet downtime (however rarely that came around), but no matter how much he tried, his brain couldn't ever have imagined how she was making him feel. Sure, he had punched aliens and defeated a demigod, but that paled in comparison to how incredible it felt to have a woman moan into his mouth when he lightly swiped two fingers along her covered core.

His touch was such an addiction for her and she felt a little slutty for moaning so deeply at it, but he seemed to like her a little bit naughty. Her fingers worked as quickly as they could at the buttons of his shirt and Elle whimpered slightly when all she found under it was a white t-shirt. The curves of her body had melded with his own hard features a few times, and even through layers and layers of cotton and polyester, she knew that there had to be a justification for all that strength. She let her fingers wander under the hem of his shirt in the front, allowing them to dip into the valleys and outline the smooth muscle, following the peach fuzz from his navel down, only for it to disappear under the waistband of his khakis. Steve groaned lightly at her touch, having to break the kiss for the final time, the feel of her hands on him almost too much for him to bear. Making quick work of his shirt, he pulled it over his head and stood up straight, pulling a hand through his hair, his eyes locked on her own. Elle sat back on her elbows, taking in the sight before her. She knew he was strong, that was a given. He had carried her groceries, and then her, all through the apartment. But those actions didn't really do it justice for what was standing at the foot of her bed, staring down at her with dark lust in his eyes. His abs were defined, but he wasn't shredded to an intimidating degree, and his pecs were hard from a day of saving the world. However, his arms and shoulders made a shudder of excitement go through her. Those had been the ones that saved her, that took such gentle care of her, and now were going to hold her tightly as he fucked her, and she couldn't help but bite her bottom lip as a smile crawled across her face.

Elle sat up and scooted herself forward a bit, reaching out with both hands to loosen his belt and her hands trembled slightly as she worked at the waistband of his dirty khakis. Steve reached out in kind, a gentle hand cupping the left side of her face before leaning down to kiss her with the same lightness he had before. The kiss caught her slightly off guard but she leaned into it, feeling the heat radiating off of his hard body, every nerve in her crying out to feel him. Her fingers ran under the waistband, dragging his khakis as far down as she could reach and she felt him smile into the kiss. His left hand met hers and helped her pull them off, throwing them in a discarded pile with his socks before crawling over her, his hips meeting hers to spread her wide. This was it. This was what she wanted so badly, to feel his hardness against her, to know that he wanted her just as badly as she wanted him, the feeling of it all was intoxicating. Elle threw her head back at the feeling of him at her entrance and he took that opportunity to start on the soft skin that lay at her exposed neck.

"I told you you would get me out of my pants…" he growled in her ear, her nails leaving pink trails across his back at his words.

"And didn't I say that you would get lucky?" she shot back as he let his teeth softly scrape against a particularly sensitive pulse point, the slight pain sending a shockwave throughout her.

"I think the exact words were that if I kept going, I might get to see what else was under that dress…" and he ground his hips down, making sure she knew what exactly she was doing to him. The gasp that escaped her lips was the explicit encouragement he needed, his lips finding her collarbone and trailing kisses along her décolletage. He let his teeth scrape along the edge of the lace of her bra but he didn't dare to satisfy himself just yet. Steve was enjoying just exploring her body and finding out what he could do to bring her closer to the edge and in due time, he knew he would get his.

Elle was starting to go crazy with all this teasing, needing to feel something more than lace between her legs. Her hand snaked between them, her fingers following the soft trail of hair on his abs down, over the waistband of his boxer briefs, and wrapping around his hardness, massaging him through the thin cotton.

"Fuck…" she breathily whispered as she felt his length, her fingers barely able to get all the way around him, and she couldn't help but wonder if she was actually going to be able to take all of him. Steve smiled into her skin, the feel of her hand on him, even through the fabric, feeling like heaven. Thrusting against her again, he trapped her hand between both of them, and if he didn't do something soon, he was going to lose it. Gently, he took her hand from between them and crashed his lips into her own when she whimpered in protest.

"Patience…" he teased as he pulled away, the cool air coming between them once again, "I said I was going to take care of you, didn't I?" Oh god, what did he do to deserve her? Her lips were swollen from the ravishing he had put them through, her chest heaved as she caught some needed breaths, her long, dark hair splayed out behind her on the mattress, her porcelain skin contrasting so beautifully with the small, pink marks his teeth had left in their wake. This, this was his reward. This is what he got after all the years of fighting, struggling, weakness and strength. Not that he ever did any of it for a reward, but after all, he was just a man. And this woman that laid under him, her arms reaching for him, desperately needing him again, needing him to satisfy her… she is who he deserved.

With both hands on either side of her hips, Steve dragged her ass to the edge of the bed before placing light kisses down her torso. The tips of his fingers so easily hooked around the thin elastic that held her garter belt and panties at her hips and he smoothly pulled them both down her legs, taking care that they didn't catch on her bandages. He knelt down at her altar, the pale, smooth skin of her thighs contrasting with the weathered tan of his hands as he traced invisible shapes there, a smirk on his lips before wetting them.

Feeling his hot breath on her most sensitive area as the worst kind of teasing of all. The tips of his fingers were so close to where she needed them to be, but maddeningly, Steve was purposely keeping his distance. Elle clutched at her bedsheets, trying her best to not squirm or show impatience, but her body was going to start shaking from pent-up energy soon if she didn't get some sort of release. She had no idea how he did it, how he could restrain himself for so long, to delay pleasure like this. But then again, she would have fucked him ages ago if she could. Steve gently swiped the pad of his middle finger through her folds, finding exactly how wet she already was and she pulled a hand through her own hair, letting a soft sigh die in her throat.

"Don't hold back. I want to hear you," he ordered from between her legs and she nodded furiously, praying that their neighbors were still stuck in Manhattan and not home. This was addicting, hearing her every moan and gasp, knowing that he was the one pulling each one from her, pushing her towards the edge and then dragging her back. Well, not this time, not when the world almost came to an end. The smirk returned to his lips and he used his two surrounding fingers to pull back the hood, exposing her clit, already so pink and needy.

"Holy fuck…" she breathed, her head snapping back, sheets balled in her fist as he used the flat of his tongue to taste her. She was completely at his mercy, unable to put her feet anywhere to be able to grind into him and he knew it. He swiped his tongue a few more times, making sure all of her was wet before using his lips to suck lightly on her, not wanting to do anything too fast. Snaking his arms under her thighs, he supported her legs with his biceps, his hands gently but firmly holding her hips down to the mattress, and when he looked up her body, the sight he witnessed was almost enough to make him finish. Her eyes were closed tight, head back but her mouth was buried in her shoulder, her left hand up and in her hair. The look of pure ecstasy on her face, knowing that all the pain she had gone through today he was replacing with pleasure, he could see the moan rip through her throat as he swirled his tongue in a particular way. Her right hand was at her breast, clawing at it through the fabric, and every time her breath caught, they bounced from the force.

Steve groaned against her cunt, sending vibrations through her that made her core clench. She was so close already, all the teasing and tension from before setting her up so that this moment could arrive. His strong hands held her tight, so sure that he was going to leave little bruises at her hips, but she didn't care. He could mark her any way he wanted; she was his for the taking. Elle's brain was buzzing, swimming in an ocean of chemicals and lack of oxygen, she didn't want this day to ever end, but there was something deep within her that he wasn't yet satisfying. His hand left her hip, fingers dragging down her thigh, as his left forearm moved to maintain his hold on her. Her legs shifted to his shoulders and he moved his head up slightly, making room so that two fingers could slowly enter her.

"I'm so close…" Elle gasped out, her hips trying to buck into him, but his arm would barely let her move. Fuck, that was the spot he needed to hit, and when he crooked his fingers up slightly, her left hand went immediately to the back of his head, her fingers tangling in his hair. Steve couldn't help but smile against her cunt and he looked up at her again, needing to witness what was coming. The heat coiled within her ever tighter but she forced herself to open her eyes, to look down her body at him, to remember what it looks like when Steve Rogers eats your pussy. But instead, her eyes met his own and that was all it took to push her over the edge.

The timbre of her cry reverberated around the room and her head fell back again, her walls clenching around his fingers. Wave after wave of warmth washed over her entire body and she held his head with her left hand, forcing him to ride this out with her. Steve was more than happy to assist and he finally let her hips do what they needed to do, his free hand going for her own, lacing their fingers tightly together. She held his hand tightly, the tinging in her thighs turning slowly into soreness from the tension that she put on them, but she let go of his hair, giving him permission to finally move.

Holy fuck she thought, not really able to rationalize or put into words what she had just experienced. It had been a little while, sure, but that was more than just satisfying a primal need. It was like he was reading her body and anticipating her needs even before she knew. The orgasm he gave her was enough to put her out for the rest of the night, but a gentle hand softly grazed along her neck and lifted her head a bit, his lips taking her own. She sighed into it, tasting herself on him as he moved back up to the bed, kneeling on it so that she was straddling him, his underwear discarded.

"You're so fucking sexy," he whispered against her lips and she deepened the kiss, the longing starting at her core again already, and her hips rolled into his, his dick throbbing against her stomach. The fabric scraping against his chest was maddening at this point, needing to feel all of her against his skin. His hand moved to the clasp at her back but he wasn't about to fuck around with it. Wrapping his fingers around it, he pulled sharply, tearing it apart in one motion. Elle gasped at the sudden action but let the garment fall before she pushed it to the floor with everything else. Steve pulled her back to him, his lips at her neck, her ample tits pushed up against his chest and she reached down between them, sliding his shaft against her slick folds, needing to feel all of him fill her. He moaned against her skin and his free hand went back to her's, entwining their fingers once again as he slowly entered her.

"Oh god," Elle breathed, her lips at his ear as she felt everything he did. He was purposely going slow, letting her get accustomed to him, to feel every sensation she could, and her body thanked him for that, her wetness allowing her to take him fully. His mind was buzzing in the most amazing way possible, to feel her all around him, to feel how tight she was, to know how much she still wanted him, he had to take a sharp breath just to keep himself from falling apart entirely.

It was never like this before, never this passionate and primal; the women Steve had been with before had never responded to him like Elle. She moved with him, naturally finding a rhythm, and her free hand scraped down his back again, the slight, sharp pain from her nails only serving to encourage him. If the city falling down around her didn't break her, then he couldn't either, and he returned the pain with his teeth scraping against her jaw, his hot breath at her ear, a bead of sweat rolling down her neck to her chest, only to be disrupted when it collided with his pecs, "Let me ride you."

Her voice, so needy and husky, Steve couldn't help but let the shiver pass through him at her request and he was more than happy to oblige. His hand went to her ass again and he lifted her slightly, turning the two of them around so that he could lay back and enjoy the view. And fuck, what a view it was. Elle sat up straight so that the afternoon sun bathed her skin, making the sweat from their bodies highlight her ample curves that had him weak from their first meeting. Her tight body instinctively moved, the bruises from his grip starting to form on her hips as she rolled them into his own. It was definitely worth waiting 67 years to feel this again.

Every thrust was like a shot of dopamine right to her brain, the pressure building deep within her that was getting harder and harder for her to hold back. No, she couldn't finish again so soon, not when he hadn't at all. His fingers held her thighs but his left hand wandered up, following the curve of her hip and she leaned forward a bit, planting her hands on his hard chest. The calloused pads of his fingertips gently grazed the sensitive bud of her nipple before letting himself finally explore her soft breasts. The coil tightened and a long-forgotten warmth started to take over within him and by her needy moans, he knew she was there too.

His free hand went to her head, burying itself in her chocolate brown locks and he pulled her to him, his lips crashing onto her own. This wasn't patient or curious, this was needy and life-giving, like that first breath of air after being underwater. He had been gone for so long, starved in ways that no one ever thinks about, and he was ready to live again.

A final full, deep thrust and their bodies went over the edge together, her walls clamping down as he throbbed within her, the primal moan that poured out from deep within her breaking the kiss. A sharp gasp finally escaped from him, his heart pounding in his chest, and his hand gripped her back so firmly he was sure she was going to have more bruises. His brain had flooded with pleasure and the warmth had spread itself throughout his entire body as he spilled into her. Elle's body trembled as she road her wave before finally collapsing on his chest, not wanting to move. Neither of them wanted to move. They couldn't if they tried at this point.

67 years. 67 years since Steve had gone into the ice, since he had really talked to a woman (who wasn't involved in a mission), since he had held a warm body against his own. Probably longer, but he didn't want to think about that. The world had changed, in more ways than one. What did they do now?

Elle's body was sore, both from the rigorous workout it had just gone through and the events of the day. She managed to move off of him but he caught her hand with his own, lacing their fingers together and refusing to let go. Settling alongside him, she tangled her leg between his, laying her head on his shoulder and looked up into his eyes. He was worried, sad even, and she thought she knew why, "This doesn't have to mean anything, Steve. I know it's safer if… if I'm kept at a distance."

His body was relaxed, enjoying her soft curves being pressed up against him, and his thumb softly stroked the top of her hand. His brain was working overdrive, considering what she was explaining. In a way, he wanted it to mean something and he could tell that she wanted more too. But, he, probably more so than anyone else, knew how dangerous it was to put someone in that position. Mad men viewed loved ones as weak points and used them as such, and it was only a matter of time before one came after the only person he had left, came after Elle, "I couldn't live with myself if you got hurt again."

"I'm starting to think it's an occupational hazard of living in Brooklyn," she joked lightly and he finally cracked a small smirk, knowing that he couldn't possibly protect her all the time, "Look, how about we just let it be. We allow ourselves to enjoy what we have. You keep making the world as safe as you can and I'll keep offering to make you a home-cooked meal, deal?"

It seemed like that was the best that they could do, given the circumstances. Steve didn't want to let something else this special slip through his fingers again. Still, he had so many questions rattling around his brain, "It's a deal, on one condition."

"Which is?"

"What's wifi? A waitress said they had free wireless and I have no idea what she could have meant besides a radio."